


Acquisition

by Caedmon



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, BAMF Natasha Romanov, F/M, i don't really know how to tag this, non sexual non con, phonebooth, very very mild non con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She tapped her fingers on the table for a moment, watching her fingernails make one series of clicks before she looked back up at him. He was waiting anxilously, watching her intently from across the room. "I happen to be a rather high-ranking agent with S.H.I.E.L.D., and considering how long you've been in the business you may have heard of me." </p>
<p>Clint shrugged. "I don't know who you are, but my brother is probably -"</p>
<p>"I'm the Black Widow," she interjected smoothly.</p>
<p>Clint didn't move at first, then plopped down stiffly on the couch behind him. "Oh."</p>
<p>"I see that you <i>have</i> heard of me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swietek93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swietek93/gifts).



> from a tumblr prompt: _It’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au. I need this because reasons. Clint needs to be the one in the phone booth tho. And he ends up calling Nat by mistake. Then clintasha happens._ \- I strayed a little bit, but I think it's not too bad? :D
> 
> I own nothing but mistakes, because I'm my own beta.
> 
> Comments and kudos keep the muse fat and happy. :D
> 
> clintasha-n-olicity.tumblr.com

Clint inhaled deeply, trying not to curl his nose at the smells of the Metro line. It had taken less than a year for the people of the most beautiful city he had ever seen to foul up the newest subway line. He'd certainly smelled worse, though, on much more difficult missions. This thing in Budapest, though - cakewalk. He just had to get this diplomat and put one through the eye socket. Easy-peasy. And Hungarian food was to die for, no pun intended. 

Clint's lip quirked. The women weren't anything to complain about, either. He'd be having a little fun after he wrapped up his work.

Clint held the bar above his head tightly as the metro slid smoothly to a stop. People jostled all around him as they tried to exit the train, bumping against him and he twisted his body ever so slightly to prevent them from feeling the gun against his back. An old lady stumbled when a pink-haired punk knocked her into Clint and he bent instinctively to help her. Once he had her upright, he made himself invisible and dissolved into the crowd pouring into the station and up the subway stairs into the streets of Budapest. 

Bright sunshine greeted him and the stifling smells owing to a lack of ventilation in an underground subway station gave way to fresh, cool air, lightly scented by food and flower vendors in the vicinity and the occasional cologned passer-by. Clint allowed himself a small smile when he shoved his hands into his pockets and began his walk down the shuffling street. His mark was attending a gala tonight and Clint would take him out afterwards on the way home - but for now there was sunshine and the blue Danube a block away and Ada from the pékség, who always gave him an extra fahéjas tekercs if he winked at her. 

Clint left the bakery, eating his partially wrapped pastry and thinking that for an assignment, this one was pretty damned good.

Within three blocks he'd picked up on the man in the blue jacket a block behind stalking him. Foot traffic was heavy so he supposed it was plausible that this man wasn't following him at all, but Clint knew better. He'd followed too many unwitting subjects to not notice when someone was following him. Clint gave nothing away: no look over his shoulder, no tensing of his shoulders. He simply watched the man in the glass surfaces he passed along the way that gave him a reflection.

The man in blue continued to close in on him and Clint felt his arms tense involuntarily. His mind flicked to the knife at his ankle and the gun at his waist and he wished for his bow. Clint jaywalked across the street - an amateur move, but for some reason he couldn't explain panic was setting in. He pulled his phone out of his pocket when he reached the opposite side of the street and held it up to his face looking into the black reflection - the man in blue had crossed a block behind and was now joined by a tall, leggy blonde woman in a pink button-up blouse. Clint pressed the unlock button and was greeted by the dead battery sign. _What the fuck?_ He'd just charged the battery...?

He had to get away. _Now._

His eyes darted around the street around him until he found a shop with a symbol of a phone hanging outside. "Nyilvános telefon." _"Public telephone."_

_Salvation._

Clint ducked into the coffee shop and found the phone booth in the back, locking the door behind him quickly. He would never tell anyone how fast his heart was racing right now as long as he lived, but his priority at the moment was to _live_.

He fumbled for change with shaking fingers then shoved it into the slot haphazardly, dropping a coin and having to stoop to pick it up. Clint began pressing the numbers he knew by heart frantically when he saw the man in blue and woman in pink in the shop. The man in blue was gesturing with wide arms for people to leave, the woman in pink cased the store, looking for stray customers and cameras. Things Clint had done a hundred times himself. 

The phone rang once in Clint's ear.

The man in blue shoo'ed the last of the people away.

"Goddammit, Barney, pick up your phone."

Barney didn't pick up the telephone.

A decidedly female, very cool voice answered the line. "Hello?"

Clint looked up and out of the phone booth's window. The blonde woman stood there with a phone to her ear, her smile predatory and victorious. The reciever thumps against his leg when he slumps against the back of the booth, accepting his defeat.

>>\---->

It wasn't the first time Clint had been taken into custody, and he felt pretty sure it wouldn't be the last. To be honest, capture was the least of the dangers in his line of work, and thus far his captors in this particular escapade had been nothing but cordial and sought to make him comfortable. Their most aggressive act had been to frisk him and strip him of weapons and tracking devices before they took him to an undisclosed location, which he fully recognized as standard operating procedure. Beyond that, they'd been pleasant and offered him food or drink before locking him in a not-uncomfortable room to wait. For what, he didn't know, but there were no instruments of torture to be seen. It looked more like a living room than anything else, save the two-way mirror. There were objects he could use as weapons, but he decided against it. They would have guns, he would have a vase - and be watching as he attempted to make something with it.

His fear had not abated one bit from the moment he stepped into that phone booth. 

Clint didn't know how much time had passed - his captors had taken his watch - when the door to the interrogation room opened and a woman entered. This woman was not the blonde who had grabbed him on the street, this woman had red hair and the most stunningly beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. She smiled at him as she strode confidently into the room and closed the door, and his stomach swooped. He maintained his position across the room from her, his body coiled and ready to strike if need be. She had nothing in her hands but he didn't doubt that she was armed and lethal. 

She went to the table by the window and pulled out a chair, sitting with her body facing him and crossing her long legs. "Mr. Barton. I'm sure you've got a lot of questions, and I'll answer all of them for you. First, I'll tell you the basics: My name is Natasha Romanov and I am an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. And I trust that Agents Morse and Ward were not difficult to deal with. I do regret that we had to spike your cinnamon roll..."

"You drugged me?" Clint backed farther away, his knees hitting the back of the couch at the opposite wall. 

The redhead inclined her head and gave the barest hint of a shrug. "An unfortunate necessity. We wanted to bring you in with as little mess and as few casualties as possible. It worked exceedingly well. But don't worry," she added, almost as an afterthought, "the effects of the drug will be out of your system within the next couple of hours and we will have a much deeper discussion when your mind is clear. Right now is just for introductions."

"Why'd you kidnap me?" Clint broke in aggressively. "What'd I do to get on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar?"

"Well, that's a bit of a silly question, now isn't it, Clint? Can I call you Clint?," Natasha asked without any hint that she was going to call him anything else. "You've been on our radar for a while for taking out high-profile targets. Please," she gestured to the couch still directly behind his legs, inviting him to sit.

Clint shook his head and used the excuse to look around the room for the umpteenth time, searching for an escape. "Yeah, well, I guess that means I'm good at my job, right?" he almost muttered.

"Quite good, Clint. Which is why you're here." She tapped her fingers on the table for a moment, watching her fingernails make one series of clicks before she looked back up at him. He was waiting expectantly, watching her intently from across the room. "I happen to be a rather high-ranking agent with SHIELD, and considering how long you've been in the business you may have heard of me." 

Clint shrugged. "I don't know who you are, but my brother is probably -"

"I'm the Black Widow," she interjected smoothly.

Clint didn't move at first, then plopped down stiffly on the couch behind him. "Oh."

"I see that you _have_ heard of me."

_If one tenth of the things I've heard about this woman are true, I am a dead man._ he thought.

"Yes."

"Good."

"So I'm to be killed." It was a statement, not a question. Clint had not moved, but his mind reeled. "That's fine, do what you have to do. Just please don't hurt my brother or mother. They haven't -"

Natasha waved her hand dismissively and smiled, as if he could be forgiven for coming to such a foolish conclusion. "Of course not, no, you won't be harmed at all and your brother and mother are perfectly safe. In fact, they will now be under S.H.I.E.L.D. protection, as will you. The only harm that will come to you is the drugging that got you in the door."

Clint shook his head, confusion etched across his face. "Then...why am I here?"

Natasha stood up and walked across the room with long, purposeful strides, stopping only a foot or two in front of him, causing him to crane his neck to look up at her. 

"Because I need a partner, and I want you." She offered her hand to him where it hung between them and he stared at it, disbelieving.

"What do you say, Clint? How'd you like to join S.H.I.E.L.D. and be the partner of the best spy in the world?"


	2. Vigilance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is issued a warning, and Clint gets his own warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to write a sequel to Acquisition, but it would appear I am. :D So here's chapter two...
> 
> I own nothing but the mistakes, because I don't have a beta.  
> kudos, comments, bookmarks and hits keep the muse alive. <3   
> clintasha-n-olicity.tumblr.com  
> Thank you so much for reading!! <3

The desk she leaned against was wooden, unforgiving, and it made a satisfying clacking sound as she tapped it beneath her short nails. The man on the screen in front of her in the grey suit was angry but controlling himself well, the only indication of his frustration being the pacing he allowed himself and slight clenching of the jaw she wasn't sure he was aware of. 

"So you disobeyed orders because you had a _crush_." He said this last word as if it felt bad in his mouth and he were rejecting it. "Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"No, Agent Gonzalez, although I won't deny a certain... attraction to Barton, but the attraction is purely to his talent and skill," she replied cooly. "I disobeyed orders because I see potential in him. Too much potential to be wasted."

Gonzalez clenched his fists beside his hips angrily. "He is responsible for the murder of SHIELD assets, Agent Romanov!"

"So am I." Gonzalez was brought up short and stared at her with rigid, narrowed eyes for a long moment before scrubbing his face. Natasha allowed herself a second to gloat before she continued. "I have killed assets of SHIELD and numerous other agencies. I've been on both sides of SHIELD's line. Are you stating that I should be killed for following orders when I was on the other side of the line, Agent Gonzalez?"

"Of course not, Romanoff," he replied curtly. "But you know as well as I that since you've come to SHIELD and been deprogrammed-"

"You mean since I was taught 'right' from 'wrong'?" Natasha interrupted briskly. "If you're trying to insinuate that the 'right' thing to do is only following orders, I would have to disagree, sir. That was the mindset that was drilled into me in the Red Room, and I find it utterly apalling. How is the 'right' thing to do only mindlessly following orders, with no thought to the circumstances? Who are you to decide what is right all the time? You aren't on the ground here. You haven't been tailing Barton for two months, you haven't seen what I've seen. You haven't seen him in action, you haven't seen him when he's not in action. How can the 'right' thing be predetermined by someone who doesn't know these things, or only knows them secondarily? And isn't what's 'right' all subjective, anyway?"

Gonzalez had managed to visibly agitate her by reminding her of the Red Room, and Natasha paced in front of the desk while he watched her, scowling. He wasn't prepared to back down, however, and followed her with his eyes, his arms crossed and brow furrowed into a deep line. 

"'Right' is about saving lives, Romanov."

She whirled back to him, resting her bottom back on the desk as she had been. Triumph played at the corner of her lips as she crossed her arms. "That's exactly what I did, Agent Gonzalez. Full stop."

Gonzalez exploded, "You saved the life of someone who has obliterated God-only-knows how many lives in the name of evil, Natasha!"

She shrugged. "But who knows what he can do when he's working for us. He's bright. He's talented. He's everything we look for in top agents."

"That's enough." 

A new voice broke in from the shadows and Gonzalez stepped out of the way, allowing Natasha to see Nick Fury standing from where he had been sitting with his feet propped on the desk at the back of the room Agent Gonzalez was standing in. He circled around the desk to move towards the front of the room, making himself more visible. "Agent Romanov, I've trusted your judgment for several years, and if you think this guy was worth saving, I'll take your word for it. But I don't buy that it was just because you think he'd make a quality asset."

Natasha crossed her arms more firmly and raised her chin defiantly. She could lie to almost everyone, but not Nick Fury. He had found her, had helped deprogram her, had believed in her when no one else did. He was one of the few people whose opinion she respected, and he certainly knew her better than anyone. Nick Fury could read her with little trouble, and he could tell that she was hiding more than she was giving away. She'd tell him whatever he wanted to know, but this wasn't something she cared to discuss in front of her handler. 

Fury studied her face for a few moments then turned to Gonzalez without taking his eyes from Natasha. "Gonzalez, I think I'm going to take the burden of Romanov off of you. The two of you don't seem to work well together. Step outside and call Coulson for me, if you please."

"Yes, sir." Gonzalez acquiesed, but gave one more ruminating look to Natasha. She watched the closing door on the screen smugly.

"Now," said Fury, calling her attention back to his penetrating gaze. "Attraction, huh?" 

"God, Fury, you had to pick up on that."

"I did."

"It's nothing."

"It's something when it comes from you. You've quite the reputation as an ice queen. For God's sake, you're the Black Widow."

"I'll make damn sure it's nothing. My job isn't to get emotionally tangled with an asset."

"Damn right it's not, but I have a feeling you're already compromised. When I picked you up, Natasha, you had so much blood on your hands, so many evil deeds, you thought you would never be able to do enough good to get the red out of your ledger. Now there's this guy who's just as dirty as you were. I don't know if you're trying to satisfy some kind of savior complex or if you're trying to do for him what was done for you, but if you disobeyed orders to take him out and he goes on to kill more, that blood is on your hands. That red goes right in your ledger that you've worked so hard to clear and balance out."

Natasha nodded. She understood perfectly, and the realization at the truth of his words sent her pulse up.

"I'm putting Coulson over the both of you. It's your job to turn this assassin into a spy, and he's supervising. You have as much leeway as you need, but he speaks for me. Do you understand that?" Natasha nodded. "I don't expect him to be as good as you - nobody will ever be as good as you - but I expect him to be damned good." Natasha nodded again. There was nothing to say to Nick.

"I trust you, Natasha. I trust your instincts and emotions. If you've got a thing for this guy, that's all fine and well. You know the rules and I trust you to abide them. But I have to warn you - don't do anything to jeopardize this mission. I'll park you at a desk in Alaska for two years if you screw this up. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Turn this man into an asset and not a liability, Natasha. Make him into a decent spy or your ass is mine. The books had damned well better balance, Romanov."

>>>\------->

Clint crept away from the door he had been hovering beside after watching the Black Widow go inside earlier. He'd not expected much, but he'd hit the mother lode.

He was to be made a spy, an asset of SHIELD. That actually didn't bother him too much. The thing that ruffled him were the words 'emotional entanglement' and 'got a thing for this guy.'

Yeah. There was no way he would be caught dead crawling in bed with the Black Widow. He curled his lip at his brain's own choice of words. To go to bed with the Black Widow was to be caught dead. It was her most famous method of killing. 

_No way in hell, pal. Not me. Not Clint Barton._


End file.
